I don't Like Mondays
by Rasial
Summary: Neal's really changed since his parents split. She can handle the books and the moods, but when he starts showing a little too much interest in current affairs about bombings and shootings, Lindsey fears that he might be going to target McKinnley. Intense Lindsey and Neal friendship (romance if you squint?) and potential trigger warnings. Complete.


Lindsey tried to look nonchalant as she snuck the brown paper bag into her room, pressing it up against her school books.

She blanched as she heard noises in the living room.

"Oh, hey guys." Lindsey nodded a smile to them. Her little brother and his friend Bill were on the floor playing the Atari.

"Hey Lindsey." they chimed, not looking away from the screen.  
"Hey." Neal was lying down, stomach first, on their couch, reading a book.

Lindsey raised her eyebrows at Neal's lackluster greeting. But she wanted to get her LP on before Dad came home. He'd been very clear since the Dead Head affair. "No music is good music!"

Lindsey unwrapped her prize and dropped the needle on it.

_The silicon chip inside her head  
gets switched to overload  
And nobody's gonna go to school today  
She's gonna make them stay at home  
And daddy doesn't understand it  
He always said she was good as gold  
He can see no reasons  
Cos there are no reasons  
What reasons do you need to be show-ow-ow-ow-own?_

Tell me why  
I don't like Mondays  
Tell me why  
I don't like Mondays  
Tell me why  
I dont like Mondays  
I wanna sho-oo-woo-woo-woo-oot the whole day down.  
  
"You know that song is about the Cleveland school shootings?"

Lindsey whipped around to see Neal leaning in her doorframe. He had his finger folded in the pages of his book, marking the place as he rested it against him. The cover read _Beyond Good and Evil_.

"Yeah." Lindsey shrugged. Her eyes narrowed in on the book. "You're reading Nietzsche?"

"Not a good look on my people, I know. But it pays to know thy enemy."

Lindsey gave him a small smile. "So what can I do for you, Neal?"

He looked at her like it was obvious. "I want to hear the song."

"Oh." Slowly, Lindsey turned and fumbled with the needle until the song began again. Without invitation, Neal sat down on the floor of her bedroom, back pressed against the wall and arms circled over his knees.

He stared off into space.

Lindsey was a little unnerved. Usually Neal was all over her with unwanted attention, but now he'd invaded her room to ignore her.

She sat on her bed and listened until the needle scratched dry air.

"You think a lot about death, don't you?" Neal asked.

"Um, I wouldn't say a lot, but I think about it. Yeah." Neal was looking up at her, expecting her to say something else, so she said "I was alone with my grandmother when she died."

Neal's eyes had a bright spark of interest suddenly. "What was it like?"

"It was awful. She was so scared...and there was nothing I could say, y'know? Nothing was there. No...heaven." Lindsey was surprised to see Neal really listening – not like when she'd tried to talk to Nick or even Sam.

"Nietzsche says God is dead." Neal offered.

"I don't believe in God."

"Neither do I."

Lindsey spluttered. "But you're..."

"Let me let you in on a little secret." Neal smiled and clasped his hands more loosely around his knees. "Most Jews don't believe in God; we believe in being Jewish."

Lindsey laughed.

"Besides, we don't really have the solid promise of heaven or hell, so I've never really imagined going anywhere when I die but in the ground." he pressed his lips together and let his eyes fall away from Lindsey's.

"Doesn't that scare you?" Lindsey asked.

"It used to. Not so much anymore." Neal gave her a tired sideways smile.

It made Lindsey's face fall.

"Why not?"

Neal sighed. "I just think there are things worse than death. Experiences you can have right here in Michigan."

A queasy, unsettled feeling was starting to rise in Lindsey's chest. She leaned forward on the bed. "You've been thinking about it a lot, lately too, haven't you? Death I mean."

Neal's eyes were guarded. "Yes..." he said slowly.

Lindsey gestured with her chin over to the record player. "The kind of death that's in the song? Shooting people?"

He said nothing.

"Neal!"

"What? You're going to get mad with _me_ for thinking about something unorthodox? When you've spent the last year ignoring your grades and your family and your old friends to walk on the wild side with Daniel and his cronies?" Neal's voice was getting louder.

"Daniel would never shoot anybody!" Lindsey exclaimed.

"You don't know that. You don't ever really know what someone is capable of until you catch them doing it." Neal's voice had the sullen assurance of someone who knew all too well what he was talking about.

Lindsey softened. "This is about your Dad, isn't it?"

Neal gave a soft snuff of mock laughter and dropped his head again. "No. This is about the fact that my whole life is a lie." He gave her a gentle smile and nodded. "Thanks for the music, Lindsey."

He got up and trailed out to join the others.

Lindsey flopped back on her bed. Is this what growing up looked like? Was the change that Neal was going through, that she had gone through, was it normal?

Or was Neal in real trouble?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsey pushed some peas around the dark mass known as Salisbury Steak on her tray while Nick and Ken argued.

"So, what do you think, Lindsey? Lessons with some of Amy's band friends could be cool... " Nick asked her.

"At least it will prepare you for military drumming." Ken snarked.

"Sure." Lindsey said, staring over at her brother's table. Neal was wearing a dark shirt, and had his head bowed over a red-covered book. Catcher in the Rye.

"Lindsey, isn't it your sworn duty to have an opinion on everything?" Ken asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, lessons are a great idea, Nick." She met his eyes and gave him a genuine smile.

"There you go. Yoko's blessing." Ken deadpanned.

Lindsey gave him a half-hearted thwack as the bell rang.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lindsey propped open his doorway.

"Sure. What's up?" Sam was sitting on his floor, homework open in his lap.

Lindsey came in and sat on Sam's chair. "I was wondering how Neal's been lately, with everything going on with his parents."

"Um, he's Neal, so you know. He doesn't talk much about stuff like that."

"Stuff like what?"

"Stuff he's sad about. When he's upset he tries to be funny. Or angry." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Angry how?"

Sam sighed and shut his book. "Well, he won't watch TV with us anymore, or play video games. He says Groucho would call them puerile entertainment."

Lindsey suppressed a laugh.

"He reads all these depressing books, and if we ask him what they're about, he goes on about the Real World, and Anwar Sadat's assassination, and the Unabomber, and how we wouldn't understand."

Lindsey frowned. "He's been talking about the Unabomber?"

"Yeah. Neal likes to show off about how much more mature he is than the rest of us. He drinks coffee and everything." Sam laughed.

"Do you think...would Neal ever hurt anybody?"

"You mean hit someone? He shoved Gordon the other day. But I don't think it hurt that much. Why?"

"No, Sam, I mean really hurt someone. Like with a gun."

"No way!" Sam frowned like his sister was crazy. "Besides, where would Neal get a gun from?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I'm just worried about him – he's been a bit off lately. So keep an eye on him for me, will you?" She stood to leave.

"He'll like that." Sam said, opening his book and turning back to his homework.

"Sorry?"

"He'll like that you're worried about him. Bill says Neal has a crush on you."

"Yeah well," Linsdey remembered the look on Neal's face when he'd been in her room. There'd been nothing 'puppy love' about it. "Maybe not so much anymore."

"Good. If you two got together, it'd just be weird."

Lindsey laughed, and shut the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsey had to get into McKinnley's school buildings inhumanly early – she'd left her English notes in her locker and there'd been an ugly rumour of a pop quiz Friday morning.

Driving privileges were still suspended indefinitely, so she walked, kicking a stone until it stuck in a crack in the pavement. Coming around the long side of the school's car park, skirting trees and shrubs, she heard something that sounded like a car backfiring. But there were no cars in the lot.

Peering through the trees, she saw a figure crouched over a box, with a line rigged out to two small stacks. Boom. BOOM!

They exploded, one after the other. Lindsey gulped, eyes wide, and gripped the tree to steady herself.

It was a school boy.

Blowing things up.

What the?

"Hey!" Lindsey felt braver, realising the little vandal was a just a middle-schooler. "What are you doing?!"

The boy looked up, panicked, and ran.

Yep. That was Neal.

Lindsey ran to the smoking debris on the ground. He'd taken most of his gear with him. She had no idea what explosives really looked like – they always had a giant clock strapped on them in comic books - but the air was smokey and smelled like rubber and hot metal.

Lindsey looked right and left, but no one else was around. No other witnesses. What exactly had she seen? Neal. Blowing things up. By remote control. A practice run?

She couldn't get carried away. There could be other explanations. Could be a science experiment or something.

But then, why did he run?

And what if she didn't say anything and Neal did something awful – like plant a bomb at the school?

Lindsey dropped her backpack and pulled out the brown paper bag around her sandwich. She scooped up some of the metallic debris, hoping like hell it wasn't dangerous to touch with your hands.

She needed evidence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr Rosso?"

"Lindsey, what a pleasant and unprecedented surprise. How can I help you?"

Lindsey hung in the door. "I think I need to talk to you."

Mr Rosso swallowed some surprise. "Well, sure Lindsey. Take a seat."

He slid behind his desk while Lindsey turned and slowly closed the door. Then she sat in the chair awkwardly.

"Well?" Mr Rosso nodded at her encouragingly.

"I...I'm worried about someone." Lindsey began.

"Go on."

"He's been having a really hard time lately, at home, and I don't think he has many people to really talk to."

"I think I get what you're saying." Mr Rosso nodded. "This friend – he's gone through a radical change in behaviour?"

Lindsey winced. She'd made it too obvious. "Yeah..."

"And you feel uncomfortable because your friend, he's no longer the person you expect him, maybe _need_ him, to be."

Lindsey tilted her head.

"But," Mr Rosso held a pointed finger up "Here's a crazy idea. Did you ever think that this' new person' your friend has become, is a stage in his personal growth? That it's _good_ for him?"

"How can it be good for him?! It could be dangerous!"

"_Dungeons and Dragons _is hardly a contact sport, Lindsey. Aren't you _really_ worried about his reputation?"

Lindsey frowned. "No, I'm worried he's going to hurt somebody!"

Mr Rosso held his hands up. "Wait a second. We are talking about Daniel Desario here, aren't we?"

Lindsey snorted. "No! It's Neal!"

"You think Neal Schweiber is dangerous?" Mr Rosso frowned.

"Yes. No! He might be..." Lindsey pressed her hand to her face, took a deep breath and started again. "Neal is my little brother's friend, and Sam says he's been talking a lot about things like assassinations at the Unabomber attacks. He was over our house this week and he mentioned the Cleveland shootings. I asked him if he ever thought about stuff like that and he wouldn't answer me." Lindsey made pointed eye contact with Mr Rosso and she saw she still had his attention. "We talked about dying, and he said he thought there were lots of things worse than death. And then this morning, I saw him blowing something up in the school parking lot."

"What kind of something?" Mr Rosso leaned forward.

"I don't know. Explosives? They had a remote control but he took it with him."

"You know, this is a pretty serious picture you're sketching, Lindsey. You could get Neal in a lot of trouble."

"I know – but I had to say something! What if he bombed the school?"

"Do you _really _think Neal might do that?" Mr Rosso asked.

"I don't know. But I'm worried."

Mr Rosso leaned back and huffed out a deep sigh. "I trust you, Lindsey, so if you're worried, then I'm worried. But, confidentially, I'll tell you what_ I_ see when I look at Neal. I see a boy, much brighter than his peers, who grades and behaviour have taken a sudden nosedive. Remind you of anyone?" Mr Rosso smiled.

Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"Well, he's in my office one day, and he tells me he's wrestling with a big decision. Now, most kids his age, the biggest decision they have to make is between popcorn and Raisinets, but he tells me that he knows his Dad is cheating on his Mom, and he's trying to work out whether it's best for her to tell her. Not best for _him_, mind you, but for _her_." Mr Rosso grimaced. "To me, that's a kid who's sensitive, even wise beyond his years. I have a hard time seeing a kid who rode his bike all night, trying different garage doors until he found his father's mistress, who needed _hard proof_ before he made the accusation – and then cried as he confessed all this to his guidance counselor – I have a hard time seeing that kid as the Unabomber."

Lindsey felt sick. "Poor Neal."

"Yeah." Mr Rosso pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. "But the thing is, there's a protocol in place at this school. Any incidents where public safety is at risk have to be reported."

"Are you going to turn Neal in?" Lindsey glared, feeling betrayed.

Mr Rosso held his hands up. "I have to make a report about the explosion this morning, it's my job. But I think there are ways we can both help Neal. I'll have a talk to his teachers and parents, try and shed some light on his behaviour – meanwhile, you should try talking to Neal."

"Me? You're the counselor."

"Come on, Lindsey, are you a woman or a mouse? You and Neal might be the two brightest kids at McKinnley. You've both been through a rough time that you've struggled to talk about. You must be able to see the parallels."

Lindsey snorted.

"Opening up might be good for both of you." Mr Rosso said pointedly. "Now head on to your next class."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsey was leaning back against the lockers, smiling at Kim who was laughing her ass off. Someone came around the corner and wiped the goofy expression off both girls' faces. Lindsey's eyebrows furrowed and Kim's nose twitched with interest.

The principal and Mr Rosso were walking silently and seriously towards a locker. Lindsey's heart sank. She wasn't close enough to hear the tight-lipped conversation, but sure enough, Neal appeared from the crowd and opened his locker for inspection. The principal took something from his locker. More words were exchanged, then the three of them headed for the admin block.

"Busted!" Kim sniggered as they walked by.

Neal turned around and glared, not at Kim, but at Lindsey.

He knew who to blame.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Barry answered the door, it was not who she expected.

"Uh, hi." Lindsey blushed.

"Hey Lindsey." Barry winced, scrubbing at the back of his head. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm actually here to see Neal." Lindsey began, but Barry held up a hand to stop her. "I'm sorry Lindsey, but I don't think that's such a good idea. Things have been pretty heavy here lately, what with the divorce proceedings, and now this _farkarkte_ business with Neal at the school. The parentals left me in charge while they meet with their lawyers in town, so they don't even know about the suspension yet."

"He got suspended?" Lindsey boggled.

"Yeah. Neal suggested you might have had something to do with that." Barry's eyes rested on her.

Lindsey didn't say anything.

Barry nodded gently. "I'll tell him you dropped by."

He closed the door quietly.

Lindsey sighed. She had no intention of walking away without at least explaining her part in it to Neal. The Schweiber house was a two storey place and Neal's bedroom was on the second floor. She circled around the property until she could see his window. There was a little balcony landing outside of it. No way she could reach it standing on the railing below, but there was a massive tree almost touching the second storey roof.

She began searching the trunk for footholds.

_Tap tap tap.  
_  
"What the hell?" Neal's head jerked up from where it had been buried face-down on his bed, and exclaimed "Jesus!" when he realised someone was looking in his second-storey window.

He threw open the glass. "What are you doing here, Lindsey?!"

She had one hand still gripping a bent tree branch and was leaning forward on the landing, perilously balanced. "Trying not to fall. Can I come in?"

Neal looked out the window, shuddered, then stepped back unenthusiastically. "You can come in and leave via the stairs. Don't break your neck."

Lindsey hoisted herself through the window and Neal slumped back on his bed. He was a little impressed that she'd wanted to speak to him so badly she'd broken in to the second floor, but he was still too mad with her to show it.

She dusted her hands and closed the window behind her. "Does that door lock?"

Neal gave her a faux smile. "It's unlocked right now. Feel free to walk through it."

Instead Lindsey locked the door and turned back to Neal on the bed.

"What, now you're taking me hostage?" Neal complained.

"C'mon Neal. I think we need to talk."

"Talking. There's an idea. If only you'd thought of _talking _to me before you squealed on me. Something like: 'Hey Neal, build any good incendiary devices lately?'"

Lindsey rolled her eyes and sat on the bed.

Neal didn't look at her.

"First, I need to say I'm really sorry for getting you suspended. When I talked to Mr Rosso, he seemed like he was on your side."

"You went to Mr Rosso? I thought you'd told the principal." Neal still didn't look up, but his voice was softer.

"God no! I went to Mr Rosso because I was worried about you, and I tried to keep it anonymous, but he assumed I was talking about Daniel and we crossed wires and your name kinda slipped out. And then he said he didn't _want_ to but he had to report it..."

"Yeah I know. You thought I was making _bombs_." Neal laughed, disbelieving.

Lindsey frowned. "I saw the explosions."

Neal looked up at her for the first time. "Not everything that goes kaboom" he spread his fingers into jazz hands "is a bomb. I was exploding rockets."

Lindsey frowned. "Then why did you run when you saw me?"

Neal shrugged. "Instinct. One of the rockets I blew up was Sam's."

Lindsey laughed.

Neal gave a tiny smile, then looked away again.

"So why did they suspend you for playing with rockets? It wasn't even during school hours." Lindsey frowned.

"I _may _have pilfered some supplies from the science labs." Neal smiled to himself. "Mr Rosso said he could make the suspension go away if my parents agreed to take me to a shrink."

"Are they going to?"

"Mum wants to, but Dad thinks this is all just some master scheme of mine to make him look bad to his peers in the community. Like he's not doing a good enough job of that on his own." Neal huffed.

"So why were you at school so early this morning?" Lindsey asked.

"I couldn't sleep. Last night, my parents told me the divorce was for real – 'I've retained legal counsel' real. And I reacted badly, and they started fighting and I was just so angry. I _did _all this and now I can't undo it!" Neal brought his fists down to thwump the pillow in his lap.

"C'mon Neal, you're smart enough to know this isn't your fault." Lindsey reached out and grabbed his hand on the pillow.

Neal looked up, startled.

"You want someone to blame. To punish. Someone you're allowed to hate for what you're feeling. Me, I usually choose my Dad. He's an easy target." Lindsey shrugged. "But you feel torn between your parents. You can't hate your Mom, because she's the victim. You can't hate your Dad, because you're worried you really _should_ hate him, but you don't. So you're hating yourself."

Neal's expression blackened.

Lindsey had to suppress her nervous shaking. She rushed on "When you said you were thinking about unorthodox stuff, about shooting people, you meant _you_, didn't you? You've been thinking about killing yourself."

Neal's face screwed shut and a silent streak of tears ran down his cheek. "Did Mr Rosso tell you to ask me that?" he accused, sniffing.

"No, no, I figured it out on my own...oh come here." Lindsey half dragged Neal into an embrace as his tears became more intense, somewhere between sobbing and barking. "Shh...shh." she rubbed his back "Oh God, Neal..." she slung him back on the bed so they were lying on their sides, her arm around him and his face buried in the crook of her neck. She felt weirdly protective of him, like a bird feels when anyone gets too close to its nest.

She held on to him for a long time until he got quiet, and his breathing became more regular. There was a light knock at the door. Neal uncurled far enough that he could look her in the eyes with his bloodshot ones. They lay on the pillow, staring at each other, and Lindsey felt like she telepathically understood what he was saying: _Don't worry about the door, stay here_.

So she stayed.

The sound of knocking was replaced by a key turning in the lock. Barry looked around the room and then, spotting them, crossed his arms.

"Well, I gotta say, I'm a little jealous."

Lindsey rolled her eyes at Neal, who gave the ghost of a smile, and the pair of them sat up. Lindsey looked at Barry, but Neal didn't look past Lindsey.

"What's going on?" Barry pressed.

"Neal and I made up."

"I suppose making up is better than making out. But how'd you even get into my little brother's room?"

"She climbed the tree, Barry." Neal didn't even look at him.

"Oh ho? Not sure if that screams R&J or misdemeanor. But Mom and Dad will be back here soon, so Lindsey ought to be getting home now."

Lindsey made to get up, but Neal grabbed her arm. "No. I want her to stay."

"C'mon Neal, you know what's gonna happen when they get home. Fireworks. Lindsey doesn't want to see that."

"You're right." Neal turned to her. "Lindsey, can I stay at your place tonight?"

"Uh, I think I can make it work with my parents." Lindsey stammered. "But don't you need to be here?"

"No, I really don't."

Lindsey shrugged. "Then pack a bag. Sam will be glad to see you."

Neal grabbed a bag and headed for his closet.

"Lindsey..." Barry walked into the hallway and she followed. "What the hell is going on in there? First you get my brother suspended, and now you're sneaking in windows, playing up to him, knowing he's had a crush on you since he was a foetus, when there's already so much hitting the fan around here? Do you _like_ trouble?"

"I'm not playing up to him – he's going through something, Barry, something really big, life and death big, and not a hell of a lot of people understand."

"But you do." Barry grimaced.

"Yeah, I do." She stared at him.

"Life and death, huh? Barry dropped the bluster. "Fine. Get out of here. World War III is coming."

Neal reappeared, bag packed. He was trying to look casual, but Lindsey could see straight through it with this new power she had. She could see him masking the nerves, the awkwardness, and when he turned to her, she could see him relax a little, the faith he had in her. And Neal was cynical about everything else.

Lindsey and Neal trumped down the landing to the front door.

Barry frowned as he noticed they were holding hands.


End file.
